A Man and His Money eBook

“I understand,” said Francois quickly.
And going out stealthily, he closed and locked the
door behind him.

CHAPTER XX

INTO THE INFINITE

The midnight hour drew near, and, above deck, tranquillity
reigned. It was, however, the comparative quiet
that follows a storm. A threatening day had culminated
in a fierce tropical downpour—­a cloud-burst—­when
the very heavens had seemed to open. The Nevski,
steaming forward at half speed, had come almost to
a stop; struck by the masses of water, she had fairly
staggered beneath the impact. Now she lay motionless,
while every shroud and line dripped; the darkness had
become inky. Only the light from cabin windows
which lay on the wet deck like shafts of silver relieved
that Cimmerian effect. The sea moaned from the
lashing it had received—­a faint undertone,
however, that became suddenly drowned by loud and
harsh clangor, the hammering on metal somewhere below.
Possibly something had gone wrong with a hatch or iron
compartment door inadvertently left open, or one of
the ventilators may have got jammed and needed adjusting.
The captain, as he hastened down a companionway, muttered
angrily beneath his breath about water in the stoke
room. The decks, in the vicinity of the cabins,
seemed now deserted, when from the shadows, a figure
that had merged in the general gloom, stepped out
and passed swiftly through one of the trails of light.
Gliding stealthily toward the stern, this person drew
near the rail, and, peering cautiously over, looked
down on one of the small boats swung out in readiness
for the landing party at dawn.

“Mademoiselle,” he breathed low.

“Is that you, Francois?” came up softly
from the boat.

He murmured something. “Is all in readiness?”

“Quite! Make haste.”

The person above, about to swing himself over the
rail, paused; a cabin door, near by, had been thrown
open and a stream of light shot near him. Some
one came out; moreover, she—­for the some
one was a woman—­did not close the door.
The youth crouched back, trying to draw himself from
sight but the woman saw him, and coming quickly forward
spoke. She thought him, no doubt, one of the
sailors. He did not answer, perhaps was too frightened
to do so, and his silence caused her to draw nearer.
More sharply she started to address him in her own
native Russian but the words abruptly ceased; a sudden
exclamation fell from her lips. He, as if made
desperate by what the woman, now at the rail, saw or
divined, seemed imbued with extraordinary strength.
The success or failure of the enterprise hung on how
he met this unexpected emergency. Heroic, if
needs be, brutal measures were demanded. Her outcry
was stifled but Sonia Turgeinov was strong and resisted
like a tigress. Perhaps she thought he meant
to kill her, and in an excess of fear she managed to
call out once. Fortunately for the youth, the